Still Breathing
by Syrinx
Summary: A little recurring dream. Nothing more, nothing less.


Title: Still Breathing  
Rating: R. Adult stuff. There isn't anything too explicit in this one. :)  
Summary: One little recurring dream. Nothing more, nothing less.  
  
  


Dreams are no great thing, nothing that should keep me preoccupied for hours after I wake, wondering why it is that I should care. They pass through my life as fragments in my mind, refusing to come together into a whole picture. Never were they important until now.

Every time it is the same.

It flickers into my consciousness like a single flame, unsteady at first but growing brighter. I never know how it begins, but I know that I can not will myself to stop it. My eyes will not open, my breathing becomes shallow, and soon the scene opens behind my eyes.

The room is quiet, and glowing red as though a fire is lit and it is night, shadows stalking through the room, crossing over my face and bed. It is raining outside, the soft splattering against the roof alerting me, opening my eyes. A cool blue against the angry red.

Rustling sheets make me glance down and what I find there always surprises me, makes my heart skip two beats then picks up rapidly, refusing to be silenced. I can see him smile. I know he hears it, can sense it in the room.

He crawls slowly up onto the bed, his strong arms lifting him above my legs, thick fingers grasping the thin sheets and pulling them down, uncovering the simple white nightgown clinging to my body. I do not know how long he's been there, whether he's been there before, what has happened to make this moment. I feel that it is the beginning each time, the way I see him settling over my feet with a look on his face that seems so sacred.

Soon the cotton sheets have disappeared, bunched below him carelessly. His dark eyes are only focused on my face, watching me intently as his hands begin a journey, nudging away the hem of my nightgown. 

Each time the contact of his rough hands against my smooth legs is a shock, forcing my eyes shut in order to gain back composure. They travel up my legs, lifting the gown with them, exposing only so much with deliberate patience. His body inches closer, his knee separating my legs, but I'm willing to move for him, shifting my body as I watch in wonder, following him with my eyes. He stops his traveling and lifts his hands to his simple black shirt, pulling it quickly over his head, smiling as he catches my gaze wandering over his chest. 

At that I lean forward, my hands settling on his hard shoulders, short nails digging in, and I feel his hands return to my knees, pushing the nightgown up to my waist as he stops on my hips, pulling me closer to him. I realize, shocked, that there is nothing else covering me, his hands lifting the gown over my head and discarding it on the floor, never taking his eyes off my face. 

But now, with a feral grin, he lets his gaze drag over my body, running his hands up my stomach, my ribcage, returning his focus to my face to watch my reaction. And I know he enjoys it, loves watching my eyes widen as his fingers brush the skin under my breasts, listening to my fast breathing. He lets out a small snarl as his hands move up over my breasts, moving his thumbs restlessly, his harsh skin making me roll my head back, allowing myself a trembling sigh. 

He dips his head down and tastes me, nipping at my collarbone gently as I rise up, arching my back toward him eagerly, not wanting to wait any more. My hands drop down to his belt buckle, grasping the leather and undoing it quickly before he pushes me down again with a growl, twisting one hand through my platinum white hair, tinted orange in the light, grasping it in one fist as the other works his heavy jeans down to the floor. 

I squirm underneath him, my blue eyes set on his face as he hovers over me, lowering his body just enough for my breasts to graze his chest. I stifle a groan and lift one leg, wrapping it around the small of his back, pulling him closer. 

He brings his mouth so close to mine. I can feel his hot breath cascade over my face and he begins to shake, restraining himself from taking me all at once. We can both feel the desire coursing through the room, flooding over us so fast it is hard to breathe.

"Logan," I manage to whisper, the first word spoken between us. 

He growls and lowers his head, his mouth descending onto mine.

It is always the same. I wake up in a sweat, my hair plastered to my head, my heart caught up in my throat and pounding. 

The rest of the night I lay in my bed, feeling the salty sweat dry on my skin, wondering.


End file.
